


you know you like (good) little boys

by stilesanderek (minxxx)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Daddy Kink, Dubious Consent, Fingerfucking, It's very very heavy dubious consent, M/M, Mentions of Pedophilia, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rafael does things to Stiles without his consent but Stiles ends up liking them, Rape/Non-con Elements, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 07:28:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1129959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minxxx/pseuds/stilesanderek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles decides he's going to talk to Rafael McCall, threaten him, do at least <i>something</i> for his dad not to be fired. But when he finds himself trying to get out of Rafael's motel room, Rafael doesn't let him. Next thing he knows he's naked and crying on his bed being spanked. But isn't it curious that when he looks at his dick after, it's hard and leaking pre-come all over Rafael's lap.<br/>In the end, Stiles isn't raped, he <i>likes</i> it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you know you like (good) little boys

**Author's Note:**

> sooo hey, this is TOTALLY inspired by RemainNameless' series Starts with "F" Ends with "U". if you haven't read that fic yet, dude, read it because it's amazing. the rafa/stiles sex is perfect and ugh. it made me really like the idea of agent mccall having his way with stiles' lithe body. so much that even wrote fic with it.  
> also, idk if agent mccall already has a name on the show, or if he doesn't, but in Starts with "F" his name is Rafael and I got that from that fic too.  
> WARNINGS: there's a bit of non-con here in some ways, but it's mostly all dub-con from what i would interpret. they don't have sex with stiles doesn't wanting to. the only thing that happens that stiles doesn't want to is the spanking, but you will see. oh and there's a few mentions of pedophilia, but nothing too serious.  
> thanks [Josh](http://archiveofourown.org/users/broodingsoul) for the brilliant beta, you are an angel.

The thing is, Stiles knows that what he’s doing is probably not such a good idea. He _knows_ , but he can’t help it. No one messes with his dad. And definitely _not_ Rafael McCall. Not only did he fuck up Scott’s life--to what extent, Stiles doesn’t know for sure, Scott never talks about it, the same way Stiles never talks about the panic attacks that followed after his mom’s death--but now Rafael is trying to get his father fired. His father, the only family Stiles has left. His dad is everything in his life, and even with all these dreams and hallucinations he has been having that are beyond awful, Stiles would do the whole sacrifice thing all over again to save him. Because there’s no one else in his life that he loves and cares about more than his dad.

So here he is, in front of Rafael’s motel room, getting ready to have a talk with him. It’s foolish, Stiles knows, but he needs to confront him, to say some truths in his face. He doesn’t know if threatening Rafael will make him scared at all, but it will make Stiles feel better about himself. At least he’s doing _something._ Not sitting around just hoping his dad won’t get fired when he wakes up the next morning. And after all, what could happen? Rafael wouldn’t dare to do a thing to Stiles, Stiles is, after all, the Sheriff’s son.

He knocks, and waits, shifting from foot to foot. When the door opens, a dishevelled Rafael answers, wearing sweats and a t-shirt.

To Stiles surprise, he smiles, all teeth and malice. “Stiles,” he says. “To what I owe you the honors?”

Stiles folds his arms. “I want to talk,” he says in a hard tone.

“Of course,” Rafael says. “Enter.”

He gives space to Stiles to get in and when he does, closes the door, pressing the lock.

“This is not the best motel in town, so I don’t have chairs, but you can sit on the bed,” he says, gesturing towards the bed.

In fact, this is one of the shittiest motels of Beacon Hills. It’s barely _in_ the city, right on the outskirts of town. Stiles doesn’t know why he even chose this hotel, he can’t imagine that the FBI doesn’t have the money to invest in some more comfortable living situations. But he sits anyway, and is surprised when Rafael sits right next to him.

His palms are sweating and he’s starting to think this was not a good idea, because Rafael somehow looks downright predatory. But he takes a deep breath and thinks nothing can happen to him. He’s safe.

“So, you wanted to talk to me about something…?” Rafael asks, looking at Stiles, still with a too pleasant expression.

“Yeah, well,” Stiles begins. He has to get himself together, or else the threats won’t sound very effective. “It’s about you wanting to fire my dad.”

“Oh, but, Stiles, I don’t want to fire your dad. I’m only doing my job, and your dad just so happens to be in the middle of it.”

Stiles eyes narrow. “Don’t think I don’t know exactly your intentions. You think I don’t know that you’ve noticed that my dad is starting to get too close to Melissa?”

Rafael shakes his head. “This has nothing to do with Melissa. Your dad is doing a poor job, and you know it too well. Wasn’t he fired this year? Oh, and don’t you think I don’t know it was your fault too?”

Stiles blood boils. “Shut up, that’s not what this is about,” Stiles spits. “This is about me telling you that you better watch your back if you think you’re going to do anything to my dad.”

Rafael cocks an eyebrow, and inquires, “Are you serious?”

Stiles clenches his fist, wanting to punch that face of his. “ _Yes_ , I’m serious. I have some very dangerous friends who would make you regret doing this.” Derek would do it, Stiles thinks. If Stiles explained the situation, Derek would do it for him. 

Rafael looks at him funny for three seconds, and then starts laughing. And laughing. He has his hand on his face, covering his mouth, and he even bends forward, his chest shaking with laughter. 

Stiles is _furious_. “Laugh now, you won’t be laughing later when one of my friends has your head between their hands and you’re purple all over.”

Rafael laughs some more, and when he straightens up, he has the beginning of tears in his eyes. “You’re very funny, Stiles. You think you can threaten an FBI agent? Really?”

“You don’t know what you’re dealing with,” Stiles says simply.

“Nothing a few bullets can’t handle,” Rafael says, shrugging. “Oh, and I don’t think Scott will be very into your idea.”

Wrong. Derek won’t be stopped by a few bullets. And Stiles doesn’t think that Scott will hate him (or Derek) too much for harming his dad a little bit. And even if he does, Stiles is okay with having his best friend mad at him for a short period of time. Of course, they wouldn’t _kill_ Rafael. Just scare him a little.

“Okay, don’t be afraid,” Stiles shrugs, getting up. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

But when he reaches for the door, Rafael stops him. “Where do you think you’re going?” he says, crowding Stiles from behind. “We’re not done yet.”

Stiles shivers, and he thinks _fuck fuck fuck_. “Let me out,” he says, voice breaking.

Rafael forces him to turn around and he pushes Stiles against the door. He’s smiling when he says, “Oh, no, Stiles, you’re not going anywhere. Did you think you could come in, threaten me, and leave like nothing happened?”

Stiles looks down, not wanting to look him in the eye. “I will scream if you don’t let me out.”

Rafael pushes one of his knees between Stiles’ legs, forcing him to open them to give space for his leg.The hand that is not pressing Stiles against the door cups his face and lifts his chin, forcing him to look right at Rafael’s face.

“No one is going to hear you anyway. This place is mostly empty. Oh, and, if you scream, I have a knife in my safe that I’m not afraid to use.”

Fear takes over; Stiles is sweating and shaking, he doesn’t know what is going to happen, if he’s going to kill him or what. Torture him for being insolent. Stiles is 100% regretting coming here in the first place.

“But don’t worry, Stiles,” Rafael says, still smiling. The hand cupping his face moves to press cold fingers against his lips. “I’m not going to hurt you. I promise. I’m just going to have a little bit of fun.” 

And then Stiles gets it, he’s not going to die, not going to be tortured, he’s going to be _raped_. By _Scott’s dad._

He can’t help it when he spits on Rafael’s face. He thinks it’s worth it anyway, because the smile fades and what replaces is a face full of wrath. The hand on Stiles’ face moves to clean the spit on his face and then moves to Stiles’ throat, and he thinks he’s going to be choked to death when the hand presses there and he can’t breathe.

“Not a wise choice, Stiles, I said I wasn’t going to hurt you, and that was my plan, but you’re being a really bad boy to Daddy, and I think you need to be punished.”

Stiles panics, because he doesn’t know what that means. He wants to curse but he still can’t breathe with the hand around his neck. He regrets ever coming here, cursing himself, thinking to himself, _stupid, Stiles, what were you thinking?_

But quickly the hand around his throat is gone, and Rafael pushes him towards the bed. Stiles curses loudly as Rafael shoves him onto the bed. 

“Take off your clothes,” Rafael demands.

“Fuck off,” Stiles spits.

“If I am the one to take off your clothes you will regret it,” he warns. “Instead of 20 blows it will be 40, and you won’t be able to sit for a week.”

Oh, so that’s what he’s going to do. Spanking. How typical. Stiles has thought about being spanked before, jerked off thinking about it, but usually it involved a hot male on his twenties with a lot of stubble, not Scott’s dad raping him.

So Stiles obeys, and starts taking off his clothes, because 40 blows is _a lot_ , and it’s going to hurt like a bitch, and it’s not going to be pleasant either. When he’s down to his boxers he hesitates, because he has never been naked around someone that wasn’t his dad, mom and Scott. And he had never thought that his first time would be like this, he wants to cry, wants to scream, but he knows that those things are not gonna help.

“Off you go, take off that underwear, Stiles,” Rafael gestures.

So he takes it off, as fast as possible, and he feels himself tearing up.

Rafael gets closer. “God, Stiles,” he says as he touches Stiles’ naked torso. “You’re _beautiful._ ”

Stiles is definitely crying now, and he’s so _repulsed._ He wants to shove those hands away from his body, wants to bite them, kick him out of his way; but he can’t. He’s just a scrawny kid. And Rafael is bigger, stronger, and has a gun he could use in no time. He also doesn’t want to be hit more than he’s already going to, so he stays quiet, crying.

“I’ve wondered how you’d feel naked beneath me so many times,” Rafael says, leaning in and licking Stiles’ nipple. “Remember that time when Melissa and I took you and Scott to the beach? And you wore swim trunks all weekend? I couldn’t stop thinking of having my way with you, taking you off your swim trunks and sucking you off. Then fucking you fast and dirty right there on the beach…”

Stiles does remember that weekend, but Stiles also remember he was _ten_. He was ten years old, just a kid back then, and he can’t believe Scott’s dad of all people could be the one to molest him. He wants to vomit, wants to empty his stomach full of fried chicken he ate that evening right on Rafael’s lap. Wants to snarl, “You sick fuck.”

“But I never had the opportunity, you see? Never. And that’s such a shame. So when you came here today I couldn’t help but take the opportunity that was given me and use it to fulfill one of my dreams.”

His hands now are on Stiles’ crotch, fondling his dick, cupping his balls, and Stiles has never been more sickened in his life. His eyes are closed, because he doesn’t want to see anything. Just feeling is enough to leave him scared for a lifetime. 

Rafael flips him over and settles him on his lap, where he’s sitting on the bed. “You’re going to count each blow, and if you don’t, I will hit you again until you do. Understand?”

Stiles nods vigorously, not trusting his voice. 

“I want to hear you say it, Stiles. Say, ‘Yes, Daddy.’”

Stiles can’t believe this is happening, but he has to obey, so he does say, “Y-yes, Daddy.”

“Very good,” Rafael says, caressing Stiles’ butt, preparing it to what it’s to come.

The first blow echoes in the room, and it hits Stiles hard. He had stopped crying, but now he’s tearing up again, and his voice cracks when he says, “O-one.”

Rafael hits him again, this time it seems with more force, and Stiles is crying full on now, and his ass stings. When he croaks a, “ _Two,_ ” he can barely hear it, but it seems enough to Rafael, who swings his arm and hits his palm against Stiles’ ass cheeks again.

It burns, it burns a lot, and Rafael keeps hitting him and Stiles keeps counting, sobbing while he’s at it. When he gasps, “Twenty!” he thinks the worse is over, at least, and his breathing evens out while Rafael caresses his ass, leaving kisses all over his stinging skin, trying to lessen the pain.

“You’ve been such a good boy, Stiles,” Rafael says, soft. “Took everything, counted everything right. I’m very happy with you.”

Stiles wants to spit on his face again, just because. 

And then Rafael flips him over again, so Stiles is laying on his back on the bed. Stiles still has his eyes closed, though, because it’s still too much to see everything.

“Oh, look what we have here,” Rafael says, and the voice is too happy for Stiles’ tastes. So he has to open his eyes, only to see his crotch. And, _fuck,_ not only does he have a boner, but he’s _leaking pre-come._ “I knew you’d like it, kid, see? You’re _enjoying_ it. So much. You’re even leaking all over my lap, and this is _all for me_. Oh, baby, I’m so proud of you.”

Stiles wants to throw up, so ashamed of himself he is. _Why am I hard?_ he questions himself, because this is sick, this shouldn’t be happening, Scott’s dad is _raping_ him. And he’s enjoying it?

And to make things worse, Rafael takes that opportunity to spit on his hand and wrap it around Stiles’ dick, stroking it once and then twirling his palm around the head of Stiles’ dick. Stiles can’t help it, he moans loudly, involuntarily, wanting to kill himself for it.

“Yeah, kiddo, you’re enjoying it. Don’t look too deep into it, just enjoy what Daddy is going to give you. You’re going to have so much fun.”

Stiles doesn’t know who he’s more disgusted by: Rafael, for raping him, or himself, for _enjoying it._ And is it really rape if he’s moaning with it? If he’s enjoying being spanked? If he’s keening with Rafael’s hand on his dick? 

Rafael strokes him harder, his other hand cupping and massaging Stiles’ balls. And, fuck, he wants to scream, he really does, not only in desperation now, but also in _pleasure_. He wants to scream because he wants to get out of there, because he doesn’t want it anymore, he doesn’t want those filthy hands on him anymore, but at the same time he’s never had anyone’s hand on his dick before, never knew what that felt like, and now he has it, and it’s good. He doesn’t want to enjoy it the way he’s enjoying it, but he’s writhing on the bed with each stroke, each flick of the wrist when Rafael’s hand grazes over the head of Stiles’ dick.

And to make things _even worse_ , there’s suddenly a finger pressing against his hole. It’s slick with something; lube or lotion, Stiles doesn’t know, he only hopes it’s something that can actually be in his ass. And when it presses in, Stiles doesn’t even put too much of a fight, the finger gets in and out of him easily, and Stiles keens, moaning loudly. 

“Shh, it’s okay, baby. You can enjoy it. I’m going to make you feel good,” Rafael soothes him.

With that, he adds a second finger, and it doesn’t even hurt for Stiles. He craves it. But he bites his lips in order not to let a moan because he’s so ashamed of himself. He’s not supposed to like it. He’s supposed to cry, to want to puke, to be forever traumatized with it; but he’s here, wanting _more_.

“Tell Daddy you don’t want him to stop, Stiles. Tell him,” Rafael demands, still letting his fingers in and out of Stiles’ ass.

“Never,” Stiles spits. He would ever admit that he’s enjoying it, not going to cave in and actually beg for more.

“Oh, really?” Rafael asks, with a voice that doesn’t mean good things. “So I’m going to stop, is that okay for you?”

And he does stop, he retrieves his fingers from Stiles’ ass and stop stroking his dick. And Stiles suddenly feels empty. He does want more, he realizes; he wants _everything_. Wants the fingers in his ass, wants the hand on his dick. Even wants Rafael’s dick in his ass, filling him up, making him come. He _needs_ it.

“Fuck, daddy,” Stiles croaks, and with more intent says, “ _Daddy_ , please don’t stop, _please_.” When Stiles looks up, he sees the big smile on Rafael’s face, and he feels so disappointed in himself. He’s actually _begged_ for it. He feels dirty. But the thought doesn’t linger, because Rafael is shoving him up on the bed and slipping three fingers inside him.

Stiles never had three fingers up on his ass before, but the slight burn, the stretch, the fullness he feels, is everything he has wanted and more. It’s amazing, and he can’t get enough of it. And when Rafael rubs against that spot inside him, he doesn’t even try to retain himself, he opens his mouth and _mewls _.__

“Daddy, daddy,” he breathes.

“What, baby boy?” Rafael asks, still with a malicious smile on his face.

“Please fuck me, daddy,” Stiles begs. 

He can’t believe those words exited his mouth, and he feels betrayed by himself. But he doesn’t care, for now, because he wants to get fucked, and him asking nicely maybe will grant him that.

“Of course, baby. Of course I’m going to fuck you. I was just waiting for you to ask me for it.” Stiles wants to ask for it quickly, but he waits patiently. He sees Rafael going to get more lube, sees him getting out of his clothes, sees him coating his dick--that, holy shit, is big; or bigger than Stiles’ at least--with the lube and finally feels him at his entrance.

Rafael presses in slowly, differently from what Stiles thought he would, and it doesn’t even hurt too much. It’s the perfect kind of pain, one you can endure, and even get off on it sometimes. When he bottoms out, Stiles feels full, and it feels amazing, more amazing than he thought his first time would be. In no time, Rafael starts to move, rolling his hips at first and then taking himself all the way out, to slowly get in again. It all happens slowly, and Stiles thinks he’s doing it on purpose, to torture him, dragging himself lazily in and out of his body. It starts driving Stiles insane because he wants more. He wants faster, rougher, wants it to actually have friction. So he begs.

“ _Daddy_ , please faster,” Stiles says.

“Oh, you want it hard, don’t you, baby boy?” Rafael asks, with a devious smile. “You know,” he says that with a forceful thrust, “you asked so nicely,” he thrusts in again, harder, “that I think,” there’s another thrust sharp and quick and rough, “you deserve it, don’t you, baby?”

“Yes!” Stiles shouts, trying to shove himself even deeper into Rafael’s cock.

“I’m so proud of you,” Rafael says, and Stiles, honest-to-god, _preens_. 

With that he starts plunging into Stiles’ body, hard and fast, just like Stiles asked. And Stiles can’t stop moaning, crying out a litany of “Daddy”s. Stiles never thought he would lose his virginity to Scott’s dad, but right now he doesn’t fucking care. He’s so into the whole thing, so far gone in pleasure, he doesn’t even think about that. All he knows is, he has a big cock inside him, pistoning in and out of his body, and all he needs right now is to come.

“You’re so tight, you know that, baby?” Rafael says, out of breath. “You’re so fucking tight for daddy. You’re perfect, my perfect baby boy.”

And Stiles hates to admit, but that gets him off. The praise, the “baby”, it gets him off like nothing Stiles has ever imagined. With every “baby boy” Rafael utters, Stiles’ dick twitches, gushing pre-come. And now as Rafael plunges himself in and out of Stiles’ ass, those words consist of a bliss, quickly making Stiles fall apart.

Stiles feels his balls tighten and he knows he’s going to come soon. Rafael keeps up his ever growing pace, sometimes his thrusts becoming more erratic. Stiles’ hands travel to his crotch and he starts stroking himself, not caring that maybe Rafael doesn’t want that. He strokes himself, three, four times and comes with a shout, spilling out on his hand. After that, he sags boneless on the bed.

Rafael doesn’t take long to come, too, in only a few more thrusts he’s coming inside Stiles. Stiles would be disgusted, if he weren’t high on post orgasm afterglow. Right now he’s in bliss, happy and not with a care in the world that he just fucked Scott’s dad, the prick who is trying to get his dad fired.

When he comes back to himself, a few minutes after, he realizes what he’s done. And instantly feels repulsed with himself. Because he was supposed to get raped, and in the end he had _enjoyed it._ He actually asked for it. He feels sick, like he’s going to throw up. He gets up, looking for his clothes. He wants to get out of there, and never come back. He wants to take a long shower, clean out the come that is inside him, and hope that none of the werewolves can tell he just got fucked, and by whom.

When he’s clothed, he looks at Rafael in the bed, with a smile on his face, just observing Stiles’ desperation.

“Well, I’m not going to say anything. I know you won’t tell anybody about this,” he says, relaxed. “Oh, and if you want anything else, you know where I’m staying.”

Stiles doesn’t say anything, just turns around and gets out of there. He’s right, Stiles is never going to tell anyone about what just happened. He wasn’t raped, he thoroughly enjoyed the sex, and telling anyone about what just happened would be mortifying. Now, if Rafael thinks Stiles would come back to him? He’s mad. As if. He would never come back to have sex with him.

Turns out in the end he does.

**Author's Note:**

> so hey, you can find me on tumblr on [stilesanderek](http://stilesanderek.tumblr.com). i am mostly a sterek blog though, and i have no idea what i'm doing writing fic for another pairing that isn't sterek. but oh well, sometimes the sex is too good to let it pass, i guess?  
> thanks for reading and comments are love. ;)


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